PARTING WORDS
by janekle
Summary: Pippin helps a friend regain the desire to live


5

PARTING WORDS.

King Elessar left the House of Healing perplexed and worried. He sent men in search of Gandalf, for he needed the Istari's advice. He did not notice Pippin's soft footed approach until the Hobbit spoke in a subdued and sadly quiet voice.

"You think there may be a chance he will die, don't you Aragorn?"

Aragorn gave him a reassuring smile, brief though it was.

"There is no fear of either Frodo or Sam dying Pippin. Sam is up and keeping Merry busy in the kitchens and overseeing the cooking of a meal for Frodo."

"It's Faramir I'm talking about, Aragorn. He doesn't want to live. Or so it seems to me but perhaps I am wrong?"

The sorrow in the eyes of the man denied the tiny note of hope in the Hobbit's question.

Aragorn sighed and turned back to the window to watch for the wizards coming.

"He came as close to death as a man may and yet live to tell the tale of it. I am afraid he has lost the will to live Pippin. It happens sometimes; a man may lose so much and still find the spark he needs to rekindle life within him. But to lose all may prove too hard for even the bravest man to bear."

Pippin nodded thoughtfully before wondering,

"But Faramir has _not_ lost everything. Minas Tirith and Gondor have suffered but even now the people are clearing the mess and planning for the future. He might not be Steward as his father was but you will still need him, won't you? That's why you made him Prince of Ithilien, isn't it? And he and Eowyn are to be married when she comes back from Edoras. Then why has he become so ill again?"

"I do not know, my friend. As you say, he has not lost everything but Faramir may be one of those who do not feel their losses in the immediate aftermath of war. The relief and joy brought by victory does fade and the task of rebuilding replaces it. But in some men's souls there can come a feeling of guilt at surviving where perhaps those they feel of more worth do not. It may be that Faramir suffers from this unnecessary guilt. Perhaps Gandalf may be able to find out and be able to help him. Ah, here he comes now."

Silently they watched the familiar figure grow taller as he made his way up the steep incline towards the palace.

Faramir fought the damp sheets that held him fast against the coming of the nightmare. The sweat darkened his coppery hair and a single drop rolled tear like down one cheek. He mumbled a protest that his mind did not heed; nor did his memory relent and let him sleep in peace. He stood before his father at that last council.

Denethor spoke,

"I will not yield the River and the Pellenor unfought – not if there is a captain here who has still the courage to do his Lord's will."

Faramir felt again the weight of his father's scorn and the despair in his own heart made him answer.

"I do not oppose your will, sire. Since you were robbed of Boromir, I will go and do what I can in his stead – if you command it."

"I do so."

Again that contempt for his abilities was in his fathers glance.

"Then farewell! But if I should return, think better of me."

"That depends on the manner of your return."

Gandalf saw the bitterness and longing for death in his heart as he rode by at the head of Minas Tirith's few troops that were either willing or could be spared. The wizard begged him not to throw his life away in vain.

"Your father loves you, Faramir, and will remember it ere the end."

He tried to wake, knowing what was to come and his shame and misery for his last parting words to his father. But this time the dream would not release him and once more he felt the pain wracked seconds of that brief moment of consciousness and he saw again his father bending over him with worried eyes.

"Pray tell me, Lord, that by this death I have at last pleased you!"

Before the blackness reclaimed him he saw neither scorn, nor contempt in his father's eyes, but the man's heart breaking and his spirit dying within him. He wished back the words, but even now they sounded louder in his ears then did the gentle voice now calling for him to wake. His eyes opened and the wizard smiled sadly and wiped the fever sweat from his brow with a cool cloth.

"That is better. Aragorn worries that you are slipping back instead of regaining your health. It is these dreams that ail you, is it not? You fight the coming of the healing sleep for fear of them?"

Faramir would not meet his keen gaze for shame at his memories. He muttered,

"Others have suffered more, lost more, than I. My dreams betray my weaknesses; but no doubt I shall learn to live with then by and by. I grow stronger every day. Tell the King I am sorry to cause him needless worry when he has far more serious concerns."

"It is not needless worry where you are concerned Faramir."

Aragorn moved to the end of the bed and gazed down at him.

"Gondor needs you; _I_ need you, both as King and friend. If you can not share your pain with any here in Minas Tirith then should I send to Edoras for Eowyn?"

"_No_!"

The word rang out hard and harsh, for he dreaded to think what Eowyn would think of him when she her self had never spoken out against Theoden although he had fallen under Wormtongue's sway and had turned from his family unjustly. Faramir swallowed and softened his tone,

"I thank you but no. Please. This shall pass, and soon. As Gandalf says, it is merely lack of sleep and we all have nightmares of our own to deal with."

They left him then; still worried and fearful for his life, he knew, but this was nothing he could confide. He felt himself a traitor to his father and unfit to lead men, though the King, not knowing of his inability had given him more power than he was fitted to wield.

"Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me."

He turned his head to find Pippin at his side. Faramir was confused and it showed so the Hobbit explained,

"It is a saying we have in the Shire; one that parents tell children who complain of being teased. But it's not true, is it? Broken bones mend but unkind words can never be taken back. For instance, my father loves me and I know it, but then things happen or something gets broken when I'm nearby and he says that I'm the bane of his life and it hurts. I know he doesn't mean it but it still hurts."

Pippin settled his small frame comfortably onto the edge of the bed as he spoke,

"I've never been much of a scholar, the ink spills, my pen breaks and I fall asleep on nice summer days but I've noticed that if you rearrange the letters in 'words' you can make the word 'sword'. At least in our tongue; for Common is not the same everywhere; it's not even all that common either, have you noticed?"

"You can do it in Gondor. Turn 'words' into 'sword'."

Faramir wondered where this odd conversation was going and if it had a point at all. Surprised into his naturally courteous manner, he waited politely for the Hobbit to continue.

Pippin shyly confessed,

"I over heard you, like. I wasn't trying to over hear, mind you, I just was there and he had forgotten and so I heard. What _you_ said to your father before _he_ .. thought you died. So I was wondering whether that is what has been worrying you? Because it occurred to me that _you_ might have lost consciousness without hearing what _he_ said. After you said what _you_ said, you see. Because he was really talking to me then like."

Faramir answered honestly and with great bewilderment,

"No. I don't see. I'm afraid my wits are a little slow today."

Pippin shrugged and offered,

"It is probably my fault. That you don't see. Because people _do_ seem to have trouble understanding me at times. Except for Merry that is and even he gets confused, or pretends he does just to tease me."

Faramir tried again.

"So what don't I see? I mean, what did my father say? After I said .. what I did?"

He shook his head and wondered if he was making any sense.

Pippin gave him a nervous glance before taking a deep breath and choosing his words with great care.

"When they first carried you back to the city your father stayed by your side and would not leave even when they come for him to lead the defence because he hoped that you might wake long enough to speak with him. I stayed nearby in case there was something I could do to help. And you did wake up for a few seconds and said; well about him being pleased if you died. And he looked up, because I must have made a sound, and he said, 'I sent my son forth unthanked, unblessed, out into needless peril and here he lies with poison in his veins. The dart from Mordor was poisoned but it is the poison my voice has dripped in his veins for all the years of his life that will be the death of him!"

Faramir stared at the Hobbit transfixed and Pippin thought he saw a tiny spark of hope in the man's eyes, so he went on with more confidence,

"Then he said it was 'because I saw his mother in him and how I failed to make _her_ life a happy one; _I_ needs strike out at _him_. Envy there was too; for he had it in _him _to be the greatest of our House and I would have _none_ greater than Boromir! Yet those are the only harsh words I have ever had from him, so great and so undeserved was the love he bore me.' So you see, I thought that if you hadn't heard you might be feeling guilty like and there really is no need. He knew you didn't mean it and he didn't hold it against you."

For once Pippin understood the need for patience and waited for Faramir to make either sound or movement. Long minutes later the man regained his composure enough to say,

"Thank you Pippin. I think .. I _know_ I shall get better far more quickly now. You have lanced the poisonous abscess that has been growing within my spirit."

The Hobbit broke into a wide smile that Faramir found himself returning as irresistible.

"Oh, good! I was worried that I might make things worse."

He slipped from the bed and confided, sounding somewhat bewildered,

"That happens too sometimes, you see. People don't seem to understand when I'm trying to be helpful. I haven't the knack of helping, somehow, not like Sam or Gandalf. It always goes awry and people will think I do it on purpose, as a joke like, when it's not. But you _do_ feel a little better now?"

"Oh, yes! Much better, thank you; I think I shall be able to have a good sleep now."

He tried to think of a way to repay the little fellow for his kindness and inspiration struck,

"If you go to the kitchen and ask for Annora and tell her that I think that I _could_ manage a few fried mushrooms and her special berry tarts, should she be making any, then you could bring them to my room and we could have ourselves a feast!"

Pippin's mouth began to water at the thought but he swallowed and made a heroic sacrifice,

"Mushrooms and berry tarts! I'll do that now! But I shall tell her to wait until dinner time so you can have a nice little nap. How does that sound?"

"Perfect, Master Took, absolutely perfect."

Then in a formal tone he added,

"The Lord Denethor would have given you thanks for having served him so well and loyally and when I am able I shall endeavour to reward you as generously as he would wish."

Faramir lay back against the pillows, a faint smile on his face that erased some of the traces of sorrow. His father _had_ loved him and remembered it, as Gandalf had tried reassure him he would. And far from feeling contempt for him, Denethor saw in _him_ one who could be the greatest of their House! His father had not despised him! Above all, he had taken Faramir's own cruel words for what they were; the result of grief, pain and fever. He did not mind that his father had not said those things to him; for Denethor to say them to another, a stranger, made them so much truer somehow. Faramir knew how much richer they were; for Denethor had put his pride aside to ensure that Pippin would not think his son lacked either love or respect for his father. His father loved him!

Pippin closed the door behind him and began to whistle to himself. A warm hand dropped onto his shoulder and he gave a guilty start as he looked up and found Gandalf regarding him with a serious expression. He waited to be chided for having interfered, but instead the wizard spoke with admiration and respect in his voice,

"Just when I think I truly know Hobbits I am once again finding myself both surprised and impressed! My dear Pippin, I see my 'fool of a Took' has hidden depths that contain such a store of wisdom as to auger a most promising future! Well done, Master Peregrin Took! _Very well done, indeed_!"

Pippin felt him self flush a warm red from the unexpected high praise and tried to cover it with a cheeky grin,

"So maybe the next time we have a really good party I might be trusted to help with the fireworks? Seeing I have a store of wisdom, like?"

Gandalf threw back his head and laughed, a sound Pippin thought he'd like to get used to. As they walked along, he said happily,

"I'll take that to be a 'yes' then."


End file.
